George lowered his gun. "Hey, knock that
off."
"I'll split my arm open! Then you'll see!"
Ivan struck the bars again, right on the elbow, and George was
surprised that the bone didn't break through the skin. It hurt just
to see it.
"I mean it. Stop that." For a
half-second, George was about to make a move to restrain him, then
he caught himself. Ivan could snap both of his own arms off if he
wanted, but George wasn't going to get close enough to the cage for
Ivan to grab him. Not a chance.
One more slam, this one against the
top of the cage, and George thought he might have heard a bone
crack. He wondered if Lou was feeling queasy. "Is that what you
want?" Ivan asked, extending his arm all the way, but still coming
up a foot short of George's neck. "Is that what you
want?"
"This needs to stop," George said.
This was getting out of control. It was time to just shut the doors
again and drive out of here.
Then Ivan's arm changed. Instantly.
One second it was a regular human arm, the
next second it had doubled in bulk and sprouted thick dark brown
fur. And in that second it had lengthened and made up the distance
between Ivan's fingers and George's neck.
George could barely even register what
had happened.
Now he had a set of claws digging into
his throat.
"Drop the gun!" Ivan shouted. The rest of his
body remained human, though his voice had gone down about an
octave. "Drop it now or I'll rip open your neck!"
George dropped the gun. He wasn't sure if he
was actually following Ivan's orders, or if he was just too shocked
to keep a hold of his weapon.
"Stay where you are, Lou!" said Ivan, not
looking back. George couldn't tell if Lou could see exactly what
had happened or not. "I'll kill him! One squeeze and he's
dead!"
George wanted to shout "Do what he says!" but
he couldn't breathe. How had this happened? How the hell had--
Lou fired a shot into Ivan's back.
Michele screamed.
Ivan grimaced, and blood misted in the air,
but he didn't release his grip on George's throat. His other arm
transformed, so quickly that George could barely see it change, and
then he grabbed the front of George's shirt and yanked on it,
slamming George's face into the cage.
"Tell him not to shoot me again!"
George couldn't speak.
"I have nothing to lose!" Ivan shouted. "I'll
kill him! You fire that gun again and his death is on you!"
"Okay, okay," said Lou. "Just stay calm."
"Give the gun to the girl! Now!"
Lou handed the gun to Michele. She took it,
but seemed unsure whether she should point it at Lou or Ivan.
"Nobody has to die," said Ivan. "We can get
through this and go our separate ways. You just need to let me out
of the cage."
George managed to find his voice. "We don't
have the key."
Ivan raked the talon of his index finger down
George's cheek, causing him to cry out in pain. He could already
feel the blood trickling down his face. "You're not delivering a
cage without a key. I will pop your fuckin' eye if you don't stop
playing around."
"It's in the glove compartment," said
Lou.
"Get it." Ivan slammed George against the
bars again. "I bet you're feeling a little bit silly, huh? Maybe
you'll think twice before you mess with another werewolf. You know
what, I should just do it. I should just rip your throat out. It
would be worth never getting out of this cage to watch you choke on
your own blood."
"Don't..."
"Say please."
"
Please
."
"Oooooh, that almost sounds like you're
begging for your life! I like that. I like that a lot. Do it some
more, motherfucker!"
"I've got it," Lou announced.
"Then get over here!" Ivan licked his lips.
"Georgie, you really don't know how much I want to take a big bite
out of you. I just think you look delicious right now.
Mmmmmmm."
George had no response. He
was still trying to process the fact that not only might he be
moments away from death, but there was a living, breathing goddamn
werewolf right in front of him. There were countless ways for a guy
like him to die, but like
this
? What could they even put on his
tombstone?
Lou hurried around to the back of the van,
breathing heavily in panic. He held up the key to show Ivan.
"Don't show it to me! Use it!"
Lou didn't hesitate. He shoved the key into
the lock and turned it sideways.
Ivan immediately released his grip on
George's neck and shoved the cage door wide open. It smashed into
George and knocked him to the ground. Ivan jumped out of the cage,
landing on his feet and transforming as soon as he hit the
dirt.
His pants and shirt split apart, exposing a
newly muscular and fur-covered body. He grew at least two feet in
height, and claws burst through his shoes.
Ivan's face took longer to change
completely--several seconds rather than almost instantly. Along
with the sprouting brown fur, his jaws extended, his nose
transformed into a snout, and his ears changed into the pointed
ears of a wolf.
Ivan stood before them, still humanoid, but a
very definite wolfman. Then he put back his head and howled, even
though it was broad daylight and there was no moon to howl at.
He jerked back as a bullet punched into his
chest. Michele fired again, hitting him in the stomach. Though she
was a surprisingly good shot, the overall effect seemed to simply
be to piss him off. He took a menacing step forward, and her third
shot missed completely. She pulled the trigger several more times,
but the gun just clicked.
Lou said "shit." George just thought it.
The werewolf smiled, revealing plenty of
sharp teeth, and let out a low growl. He looked as if he wanted to
make some sort of taunting comment, yet said nothing. Maybe he
couldn't talk in this form.
He howled again, then--moving on two legs
instead of all fours--ran down the path in the direction they'd
come.
George, Lou, and Michele all watched him go,
staring in horror and amazement.
"Get in the van!" George shouted, slamming
the rear doors of the van shut. "Get in the van now!" He ran around
to the driver's side door, which Lou had left open. Lou and Michele
didn't seem to be moving. "Did you hear me? Let's go! Let's go!
Let's go!"
"Where are we going?" Lou asked.
"Get in!"
Lou nodded. He and Michele ran over to the
passenger's side. Michele got in first.
"You don't have to go," George told her.
"We're setting you free."
"I'm not staying out there with that thing on
the loose!"
"Fair enough."
She scooted over as Lou joined her on
the seat. It was an even tighter fit than when she and George had
shared it, but comfort was not a huge priority right now. George
started the engine.
"What are we doing?" Lou asked.
"What the hell do you think we're doing?
We're getting that werewolf back!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Chase
"Why the hell would we go after him?"
Lou asked, sounding more than a little unhinged.
"Because we've got a job to do! And if we
fail at that, we're at least going to run that fucker over! He may
be able to withstand bullets but he'll sure crunch under our
tires!"
Lou shut his door. "We can't follow a
werewolf in a van! He'll just run off into the woods!"
"He might."
"And he'll kill us!"
George drove forward and began to make a
three-point turn. "If he wanted to kill us, he would've done it
while we were standing there with our jaws hanging open. He
could've killed all three of us, shredded us on the spot, but he
didn't." George didn't actually know this, but it sounded
reasonable.
"Good! I'm glad he didn't! When a werewolf
like that doesn't kill you, you count your blessings; you don't
give it another chance! We shouldn't be following him, we should be
driving to the nearest bar, or finding a church to join or
something!"
"I agree with Lou," Michele said.
George got the van turned around and floored
the accelerator. "I said you could get out."
"Do you have any more bullets?" Michele
asked, as they drove off the dirt road and back onto the paved
one.
"We've got a couple of spare clips. Lou,
reload her."
Lou reached for the gun. Michele hesitated,
as if unsure whether she should give up the weapon.
"It's empty," Lou said. "You might as well
hand it over."
Michele gave him the gun.
"Don't give it back to her," George said.
Lou reached under the seat, then
snapped in a new clip.
"I know."
"There he is!" George shouted, pointing
through the windshield.
Ivan was a long way ahead, at least five or
six blocks. Bastard was fast. It looked like he was still in his
wolfman form. George wondered if he could change from wolf to human
as quickly as he could change from human to wolf.
How could Ivan do that?
Werewolves were supposed to scream in pain and thrash around and
slowly transform by the light of the full moon. George couldn't
conceive of a biological process that allowed somebody to change
immediately, at will, with such control that he could transform a
single appendage. It was completely freaky. It was
wrong
, damn it!
The van was closing the distance pretty
quickly.
There were a few houses along the road, but
they hadn't passed any cars yet in either direction and nobody
seemed to be hanging out in their front yard.
"Watch out!" Lou shouted.
George swerved out of the way of the garbage
can that lay on its side in the middle of the road. Goddamn garbage
collectors.
"He wants us to follow him," said Lou.
"He wouldn't be running alongside the road otherwise. We should let
him go."
George wondered if his partner was right.
Ivan was clearly leading them on a fun little chase for his own
amusement. They didn't have to put themselves at risk like this.
They could take the hit to their reputation. They'd still get
work.
But he shook his head. "No. We're not letting
that prick outsmart us again."
"He didn't outsmart us. You outdumbed
him."
"Fine, I got overconfident and it bit me in
the ass."
"Yes. It did." Lou nodded. "It certainly
did."
"Well, it's his turn to get overconfident.
Now we know exactly what we're dealing with. No more
is-he-or-isn't-he questions. He won't trick us again."
An overweight couple sat on a porch swing.
The man stood up in surprise as Ivan ran past him. Fortunately for
the couple, Ivan didn't veer from his course. The woman stood up as
well as the van sped past.
Ivan glanced back over his shoulder,
then immediately picked up his pace, at least doubling his speed.
George ground his foot against the already-floored
accelerator.
Lou cleared his throat. "I just wanna make it
very clear--"
"Your objection's noted. We won't get
ourselves killed over this, I promise."
"I don't think you can promise that."
George knew he was being reckless, but he
didn't care. Well, that wasn't true--he cared, but not enough to
give up the hunt. He couldn't stand the idea of that smirking creep
thinking that he'd made George look like an idiot. The bastard was
having himself a big hearty werewolf chuckle as they chased him,
thinking how goddamn clever he'd been. He'd regret it. Ivan the
Werewolf was going to be delivered to Mr. Dewey, even if it was in
bite-sized pieces.
The werewolf rounded a corner and disappeared
from sight.
"Slow down!" said Lou. "Don't topple the
van!"
George wanted to ask his partner to
please shut up because he did indeed realize that he needed to slow
down before making this very sharp right turn, but decided to just
remain silent. Let Lou bark out orders. It would keep him
distracted.
He made the turn without toppling over the
van and sped down the new street. Ivan was a couple of blocks
ahead. He turned to the right and again vanished from their
view.
"He's just going in circles!" said Lou.
"It's not a circle yet!"
George spun the steering wheel to the right
and they rounded the corner. A car was parked on the side of the
street. Ivan leapt up onto it, ran over the top, then jumped back
onto the street without missing a beat. Showing off. Fine. He could
do somersaults for all George cared.
Ivan began to run down the center of the
street, not seeming to care who saw him. If that's how he wanted to
be, no problem, then George didn't care who saw them run his wolf
ass over.
"So what's the plan if we catch up to him?"
Lou asked.
"If you can think of one, shout it out. Right
now I just don't want to lose him."
Ivan was slowing down a bit. Was he getting
tired? George imagined a great big red target on the werewolf's
back as the distance ahead of them dwindled to just a few
van-lengths.
Now one van-length. If
George gunned the engine, Ivan would be part of their front
fender.
Werewolf go
splat
.
And then...Ivan sped up again, racing away
from the van and turning another corner.
"Damn it!" George pounded his fist
against the dashboard.
"It's just a game to him," Lou said.
"Following him is ridiculous."
"You know what?" George asked, applying the
brake. "You're absolutely right."